


Begin Again

by IrishWitch58



Series: And Stand Secure [2]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: M/M, MI6 Anon Gift Exchange, MI6 cafe prompt fills
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:28:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21791644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrishWitch58/pseuds/IrishWitch58
Summary: A response to the Week 2 Prompt :The end of the world has come and gone. It is now time to rebuild. 00Q preferred but other pairings welcome too! Civilization has fallen but human beings are resilient.
Relationships: James Bond/Q
Series: And Stand Secure [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1652203
Comments: 8
Kudos: 80
Collections: Mi6 Cafe Prompt Fills





	Begin Again

**Author's Note:**

> This prompt immediately drew me. Having completed it, I now have a sneaking feeling I need to write the full story of how our favorite pair ended up here. Guess that will be a New Year's project.

The generator hall was warm, the machinery humming along. He made the circuit of the room, clipboard in hand, ticking off items. It was necessary to keep the generators going. They needed lights and heat. Beeston Weir was not a large plant but it was certainly more than sufficient for the survivors' needs. They had fought their way here from London in the aftermath of the Big Death, a year ago. The disease had annihilated most of the population. No one had expected that humanity's worst enemy would return. Before communications broke down, it had been apparent that the plague was a worldwide pandemic. Urban centers became deathtraps. Even those who survived the disease fell to other causes. Violent riots broke out, hospitals couldn't care for the ill, and people died from stupid accidents they would have otherwise survived. When the worst of the disease burned through London, Q had quarantined MI6 headquarters. Anyone inside didn't go out and nobody was allowed to enter. Everyone got a shot of the vaccine. The internal air and water was filtered and they had internal power. The staff and the agents inside emerged two months after the disease seemed to have burned itself out. They found an uninhabitable city. Buildings were burned, bodies rotted everywhere, and the scattered survivors had gone feral, killing anyone that wasn't one of their specific gang, scavenging food and fuel. 

Q adjusted his glasses and finished with the checklist. MI6 had a distinct advantage over other survivors. They had both technology and muscle. And both had been needed to get them this far. He shivered a little despite the warmth as he recalled the running firefight as they left London. He had been driving one of the armored vans, 007 firing out the window at their pursuers. The whole scene was like something out of Mad Max. And James in camo fatigues and heavy boots. Q chuckled a bit under his breath. James really hadn't wanted to give up his suits although he had found denim, canvas and leather more practical now. And, Q reflected, he looked just as good in them.

Finished with his rounds, he pulled on his gloves and raised the hood of his much battered anorak and headed back to the house. They all thought of it that way. It had originally been a hotel for fishermen and nature tourists. Many of the original MI6 refugees lived there. Some had moved out to cottages around the larger building and there were other survivors who had found their refuge here. All in all, there were about three hundred living in Beeston, protected by the technology and the firepower of the MI6 staff. They welcomed peaceful newcomers as they straggled in from isolated pockets in the surrounding area. Q exited the fence around the plant, fortified with gun emplacements and with a high voltage current connection to it. The plant was intended to shelter the population of their little village in the event of an attack by the marauding gangs that periodically made attempts on any place that was remotely civilized. 

Stamping snow off his boots, he stepped forward into the lobby. Danielle was tinkering with the shortwave on the counter, making notes as she picked up broadcasts and putting pins in the large map behind her when she contacted someone new. They were expecting James back with a caravan of new arrivals sometime today. They were bringing much welcome livestock as well, a small flock of goats and three cows and a young bull to supplement the little menagerie they had amassed. They would have to start some agriculture when the weather warmed and he had technicians working with the civilians to decide the best crops to plant for the most yield. They had a good store of canned and preserved food and were always stockpiling more but fresh food was certainly preferable. 

The rumble of engines outside made him halt in the act of hanging up his coat. He peeked through the curtains at the window and watched as a line of mismatched vehicles entered the space in front of the hotel, led by one of the armored vans they had arrived in. He smiled as James emerged, a solid presence in winter camo gear. He handed the vehicle over to Kenneth, the mechanic who had been one of the first non MI6 residents, and strode up the walk to the hotel as dozens of new arrivals poured out of the vehicles, looking around and being quickly shepherded up by the residents detailed to welcome them and find them living quarters, others offloading the promised animals. 

The door opened, a chill blast following the entry of the man at the door. Bond shook off the snow, which was now falling more steadily, and unzipped the heavy parka. Q stepped close to him, looking up and smiling before drawing James close enough to kiss. Danielle gave an exaggerated sigh from the desk and Q gave her a raised finger behind his back. Q drew back at an unexpected noise, a definitely unhappy squeak. He stared puzzled as James grinned broadly and reached inside his coat. “Brought you a couple of presents,” he commented as he dragged two very disgruntled kittens out and offered them to Q. “They were in the barn with the livestock. No mom in sight.” 

Q examined the squirming fluff balls, braving tiny teeth and claws. “Well, the black one is a girl and this little striped one is a male. They're about five weeks old I'd guess. I'd say they're hungry too, ow.” The last was accompanied by an examination of a finger that had sustained a vicious bite. 

James patted pockets and produced a plastic container. “Warm this up. One of the women who's caring for the goats gave me a mix of cat food and goat milk. They seem to like it well enough.” Shedding his boots, he followed Q through to the kitchen. He was handed back the kittens as Q popped the lid off the container and doled out a portion onto a plate which he microwaved for a few seconds. Testing the temperature, he placed it on the table and plunked the kittens down next to it. They dove into the mush, emitting an alarming series of growls even as they slurped up the offering. James stroked the striped one with a fingertip and smiled at Q. “You miss having cats. I thought you might like them. And, after all, they'll eventually have kittens. We'll need cats around to help keep vermin down.” 

The pair had inhaled their meal and were now purring. Q stroked the silky fur and smiled. “They're full and tired. Let's take them upstairs and make them a place to sleep.”

James leaned closer and whispered, “You just want to get me alone and work your wiles on me.”

Q cocked his head to one side. “True. And I suggest you help me with these two so we can get to that as soon as possible.” He picked up the kittens and James filled a tray with the makings of a quick supper, including a few bottles of lager. They climbed the stairs to the big suite at the front of the hotel they had claimed as their space. Q often thought back to the days before, before the Big Death and the escape from London. He and James had not been a couple then. That had started in the long weeks they had been sequestered in a sealed up MI6. He wondered if they would have ever found their way to a relationship they both seemed to thrive in if the world hadn't fallen to hell around them. Once the door closed behind them, Q hunted up an extra blanket and settled the now sleepy kittens in a nest in an empty drawer. He found a stray shallow box and shredded some of the old paper they kept for starting fires on the colder nights. It would make a tolerable litter box. He stepped back and decided the little ones were as settled as he could make them for the moment. James stepped up close behind him, snaking an arm around his waist and kissing the side of his neck. 

“Bath?” James murmured, running a tickling tongue over the curve of Q's ear and getting an all over shiver in response. 

In answer, Q turned and began to tug at James' clothing, shifting them nearer the en suite. His work to keep the generators functional was a service to their little community but one of the benefits was that there was plenty of hot water. He eventually gave up when their efforts seemed to be conflicting. Q abandoned the struggle and began to fill the tub instead. It was large enough by far for both of them. He skinned out of his own clothes, James taking full advantage of his position, running avaricious hands over Q's arse. Q was expecting something like this. He encouraged the loving touches and turned slowly, bringing his hands up and drawing James into a long and sensual kiss, greeting him properly. They separated only long enough to sink into the hot water, James giving a heartfelt sigh as he felt the warmth cradle him. “I was looking forward to this for the last 50 km. The heater just wasn't cutting it and the roads are getting worse. We may need to look into finding a half track or something similar if they deteriorate further.”

“Think about that later,” Q responded. “Turn around and I'll wash your back.” Bond shifted to place his back to Q, setting off a minor tsunami in the tub before he settled again. Q made a massage of the washing, rubbing and rinsing and counting the familiar scars, noting a few new bruises. “Anything besides bruises?” He hadn't seen anything but that didn't always mean anything with James. 

“Bit of difficulty with the goats,” James admitted in a rueful voice. “I bent over to take care of hitching the transport trailer to the truck and the little buggers jumped all over my back. Apparently it's a thing for goats.”

Q traced the marks, careful of putting too much pressure. He kissed one shoulder and pulled James back to rest against him. There were occasional sounds, voices from downstairs, all distant and muffled. They lounged until the water began to cool, drying off and wandering to the big bed, piled with pillows and blankets. Q made a short detour to the makeshift nest but the kittens were sleeping, curled around each other. Assured they were content, he joined James stretched on the bed, kissing and allowing hands to follow paths familiar yet never old. 

James shifted, easing his bruised back against the mattress. “I may be getting old,” he offered.

Q snorted. “You run rings around people half your age. You just want me to do all the work tonight,” he chided. “However, I am happy to have you home, and you did bring me gifts.” He jerked his head back in the direction of the kittens.

James ran a hand over Q's hip, squeezing lightly. “Well, I had to, given the date.” Q looked at him with mild puzzlement. “It's the 24th of December, Christmas Eve.”

“Seems I'm getting a bit scatter brained,” Q sighed. “I completely lost track of the calendar and I haven't gotten you a present, so....” He lifted a suggestive eyebrow.

“So,” James continued the thought, “how about you wrap your gorgeous mouth around my cock for starters and then ride me till we're both exhausted.”

Q tilted his head to the side as if weighing the merits of the idea before smiling and sliding down the bed, trailing his fingers over solid hips and tight abdominals garnering small twitches in reaction. James wasn't fully hard yet so Q was, happily, able to get all of him into his mouth, sucking and swirling his tongue and using every move he knew James loved. He relished the gradual filling of the blood hot flesh and the tang as James' excitement built. He drew away and grabbed the lube he had left on the bedside table, haphazardly applying some to himself and then a generous palmful to James, finishing with a steady grip at the base to steady him. He lifted up and felt for the proper angle, loving the slow stretch and burn. He was familiar with how their bodies fit together. The slow rise and fall of his hips and James watching him through eyes bright and full of affection. He ground down hard and hit the angle he needed and let his head fall back with a loud moan. He repeated it and felt James' hand stroking his erection, his grip firm and sure. He sped up a bit and James matched him and they toppled over into orgasm scant seconds apart. Q managed to grab a towel he had left on the edge of the bed and mopped up before collapsing and hauling the bedclothes over their cooling bodies. 

“I suppose we should actually wash up and eat some of the food we brought up.” James was the first to speak. 

“Hmmm. I suspect you're right.” Q reluctantly extricated himself from the blankets and they cleaned up in the bathroom and donned comfortably worn sweats, sitting cross legged on the rug next to the kittens who had slept on, oblivious to the passionate reunion going on just a few feet away. James finished his sandwich and looked at his watch. “Midnight. Merry Christmas, Q.” he leaned over for a kiss. “Come on. Time for bed.” They dragged themselves back to the bed and rearranged the bedding, curling into each other. 

At some point in the early morning hours, two tiny adventurers escaped their own bed, scaled the dangling corner of a flannel covered duvet and crossed an expanse of small mountains, ending up at the head of the bed. Long used to the tread of kitty feet, Q opened one eye staring at the midget mountaineers. “You can stay if you don't wake him.” The striped kitten promptly curled up on Q's pillow, docilely turning into a small purring lump. The black one tromped defiantly over and settled herself on James' pillow, directly in front of his face. Q grinned, extending a finger which the small intruder sniffed and then condescended to rub on. Fairly soon, she was purring as well, obviously having selected her preferred person. Q dozed, lulled by the nearness of his lover and the soft kitten noises. Merry Christmas indeed.


End file.
